e had not loved--as far as he was capable of loving--Helena
Langley; if he had not hated--so far as he was capable of hating--the
man whom it hurt him to hear called the Dictator, then he might not have
judged his own conduct so harshly. But he had thought it over, and he
knew that he had crushed and suppressed the telegram out of a feeling of
spite, because he loved Helena, and for her sake hated the Dictator. He
could not accuse himself of having consciously given over the Dictator
to danger, for he did not believe at the time that there was any real
danger; but he condemned himself for having done a thing which was not
straightforward--which was not gentlemanly, and which was done out of
personal spite. So he made himself a watch-dog in the corridor. He went
to Hamilton's room, but he heard there the tones of Sarrasin's voice,
and he did not choose to take Sarrasin into his confidence. He went back
into his own room, and waited. Later on he crept out, having heard what
seemed to him suspicious footfalls at Ericson's door, and he stole
along, and just as he got to the door he became aware that a struggle
was going on inside, and he flung the door open, and then came the
explosion. He lived a few minutes, but Sarrasin saw him and knew him,
and could bear ready witness to his pluck and to the tragedy of his
fate.

'Come, Miss Paulo,' Helena said, 'we will go over the rooms and see what
is to be done. Papa, where is poor--Mr. Rivers?'

'I have had him taken to his room, Helena, although I know that was
_not_ what was right. He ought to have been allowed to remain where he
was found; but I couldn't leave him there--my poor dear friend! I had
known him since he was a child. I could not leave his body
there--disfigured and maimed, to lie in the open passage! Good heavens!'

'What brought him there, anyhow?' the Duchess asked sharply.

'He must have heard some noise, and was running to the rescue,' Helena
softly said. She was remorseful in her heart because she had not thought
more deeply about poor Soame Rivers. She had been too much charged with
gladness over the safety of her hero and the safety of her father.

'Like the brave comrade that he was,' Sir Rupert said mournfully. That
was Soame Rivers's epitaph.

Mrs. Sarrasin and Dolores had thoughts of their own. They knew that
there was something further to come, of which Sir Rupert and Helena had
no knowledge or even suspicion. They were content to wait until Ericson